


An Unlikely Trio

by CircleTime



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Day 1, Dragon Age Poly Week, M/M, OT3, Polyamory, mildly nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8368909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircleTime/pseuds/CircleTime
Summary: Callum Amell meets and quickly falls in love with his fellow Grey Warden after the two of them become the only surviving members of their order. But things change when they are introduced to an Antivan assassin with charm and skill. As it turns out, there may be an easier solution than any of them had expected.





	

The campfire crackled, embers flickering and dying away, filling the forest clearing with light and warmth. Crickets chirped in the night, and somewhere nearby, an owl hooted. Callum Amell found himself gazing into the fire’s depths, his eyes losing themselves in the flames as his thoughts drifted. So much had happened since leaving the Circle that it was sometimes hard for him to process. His days spent in Kinloch Hold had always been the same – books to read, spells to learn, templars to try and avoid. Now that he was living outside the prison he’d spent most of his life in, Callum was constantly surrounded by new information and sensations. He’d taken to sitting down beside the fire and letting his mind wander before going to bed, in an attempt to soothe his thoughts.

Of course, he was still prone to distractions. Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention, and Callum tilted his head until he could see Alistair emerging from his tent. His fellow Grey Warden blinked sleepily as the bright light from the campfire hit him, and he lifted a hand to shield his eyes. Alistair was wearing nothing more than a pair of breeches, and Callum stared as the flickering light played on the various ridges and grooves on his carved torso. It was a sight the young mage still wasn’t fully used to, and it brought with it a familiar hungering tug in his gut.

Alistair’s mouth opened wide in a jaw-cracking yawn. Maker, he was beautiful.

“Callum, shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”

It was just like him to be concerned, Callum reflected. The man was a fierce warrior, but his heart was soft and pure.

The mage shook his head. “I’m alright, Al. I’ll go to bed soon, I promise.”

Alistair approached, crossing the campsite and taking a seat next to Callum by the firelight. “You say that every time, you know.”

Callum smiled. “I know.”

“Honestly, you’ll end up with bags under your eyes at this rate. You’ll end up looking like Flemeth before you’re twenty years of age.”

“Do not drag my mother into this!” Morrigan’s voice called from elsewhere in the camp.

Alistair jumped slightly, before shaking his head in bemusement. “Maker’s breath, I’ll never understand how she does that. Is it a mage thing? It’s a mage thing, isn’t it?”

Callum chuckled, and he moved closer to Alistair, who took him under his arm and let his head rest against his chest. Truthfully, it was more than just his overactive thoughts that kept Callum awake at night. Fear, too, motivated his insomnia. Whenever he closed his eyes, the nightmares threatened to move in and terrorise him until morning finally came. The twisted images the taint in his blood granted him were almost enough to make him want to forgo sleep entirely, were it not for his own physical limitations.

Alistair understood, the way nobody else could, the problems a Grey Warden faced every night. It was part of what had drawn the two of them together. They were the last two Wardens in Ferelden – the only ones capable of stopping the Blight. It was a lot of pressure to put on two young men, and so they’d learned to shoulder their burden together.

 

 

Callum remembered the day he had first met Alistair – when he’d arrived at Ostagar. It had been a long trip: all the way from Lake Calenhad to the border of the Korcari Wilds, and yet he’d had almost no time to rest. He’d traversed the wilds, undergone the Joining, then faced a legion of darkspawn before almost dying atop that tower. And all of that less than a week after his Harrowing, after which his best friend had been revealed as a maleficar and fled the Circle. Callum had spent most of his time in the Circle wishing desperately for a life of excitement and mystery, hope and love – _anything_ that involved leaving that prison behind him and setting out into the great, wide world beyond the tower walls. He hadn’t expected it to be granted to him like this.

Callum’s parents had sent him away at the first sign of magic – had shipped him off to Ferelden, away from his home in Kirkwall, just because of a few sparks that had played between his fingers. It had been shortly after his eleventh birthday. Kinloch Hold hadn’t been much of a home for him, either. He’d taken quickly to the Entropy school of magic, which was far too much like blood magic for some ignorant folk within the Circle. He’d felt like the templars had kept a closer eye on him than they had many of his peers, something even Jowan had noticed. Often enough, his fellow mages would avoid him for fear of drawing the templars’ ire. Even the First Enchanter, while a kindly old man who often helped Callum’s smart mouth and youthful temper keep him out of trouble, hadn’t been much of a father figure. _“Don’t give them anything to hate you for,”_ Irving would say, ruffling Callum’s messy black hair as he did. Clearly, being born a mage had been Callum’s first mistake, then.

That was why he’d been so keen to leave the Circle behind him. Out of sight of the templars and the Chantry, Callum could finally be free. Even joining the Grey Wardens was a meagre price for living without his shackles. He’d met Duncan, Alistair, Jory and Daveth, among others. They were to be his new family – one that could accept him for who he was, not the person they _wanted_ him to be. But all of that had been ripped away by Loghain and the darkspawn.

Callum remembered waking up in a blind panic in Flemeth’s cottage, thinking he alone had survived the slaughter at Ostagar. He hadn’t waited for Morrigan to explain, he’d sprinted out of the shack in his smallclothes, only to run almost headlong into Alistair. For the first time in years, Callum had wept as he clung desperately to the other Warden. Sometimes, while in the Circle, Callum had felt like the place had sucked him dry. His volatile emotions had been disposed of, and replaced with reason and logic and patience. He’d let himself be sculpted into an ‘ideal’ mage, a hollow facade to mask his real self. But seeing that his new companion still lived washed it all away, bringing years and years of emotional turmoil to the surface.

“You’re alive!” Callum had choked, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive!”

Alistair must have been taken aback by the skinny mage that had flung his arms around him, but he had returned Callum’s embrace nonetheless. Alistair had stroked the back of his head, and whispered, “ _We’re_ alive.” And the two words had meant more to Callum than either of them had realised.

The events at Ostagar had had a serious impact on the two Grey Wardens, and now they had just been saddled with the fate of all of Ferelden – perhaps even Thedas itself. Morrigan was no source of sympathy, and Barkspawn the mabari was incapable of serious conversation. Thus, on the journey north to Lothering, it was only natural that the two men find comfort in each other. After one particularly trying night of horrific taint-induced visions, Callum had crawled into Alistair’s tent.

“Can...can I sleep with you?” he’d asked, his voice humble but pleading.

He’d seen Alistair’s face turn red, even in the gloom inside the tent. “Wh-What? I mean, er, that is...”

“Can I sleep here in your _tent_ , I mean,” Callum felt heat tinge his own cheeks at the thought of where exactly Alistair’s mind had gone.

“Oh? Oh! Oh, well, yes. I-If you have to, I suppose.”

The two of them had huddled up together under the thin blanket, with Callum taking great care not to think about how little clothing his companion was wearing at the time. In time, Alistair had relaxed, and eventually drifted off. Despite the snoring, the former templar’s presence had been enough to soothe Callum to sleep. He’d had no more bad dreams that night.

Gradually, Callum formed a habit of sleeping in Alistair’s tent every night. He’d initially felt as though he was bothering his friend, but Alistair had never complained or turned him away. They were both Wardens, after all – blood brothers. He knew what Callum was going through, at least when it came to nightmares and darkspawn. Slowly, the gap between their sleeping bodies narrowed, and by the time they’d reached Lothering at last, they were spending their nights spooned up in Alistair’s tent. The nightmares never fully went away, but whenever one of them would awaken in the middle of the night, thrashing out at invisible monsters, the other would always be there to calm him down.

After Lothering, the party had set out for the Brecilian Forest, with two new companions in tow. While Sten almost always kept to himself, the young Chantry sister had taken a bit of an interest in the relationship between Alistair and Callum. Leliana had cornered the mage one night after Alistair had retired early to bed, whispering “I’ll see you later” to Callum in a soft voice that had made his heart leap.

“So, Callum, you and Alistair seem very close,” Leliana brightly commented, barely a few seconds after Alistair’s tent flap had closed.

“What?” Callum had blinked rapidly at the woman’s forwardness. “O-Oh, well, I suppose so. He’s my companion, and my friend.”

“And is that all?” She raised a quizzical, but amused eyebrow at him. “You seem quite _cosy_ to me.”

Callum had swallowed. “I...don’t know what you mean.”

“Are you and Alistair lovers?”

Callum’s face had felt like it was burning hotter than the campfire. “Wh-What? No! We...we aren’t, I mean...”

Leliana had giggled like a naughty child. “It is nothing to be ashamed of. Why, in Orlais, a person’s preferences are hardly anything more than a conversation topic. Loving relationships between men is common among nobility and peasantry alike.”

“That’s not the point!” Callum had spluttered. Even in the Circle, nobody had considered same-gender affairs to be any different than those between a man and a woman. All were forbidden by the Chantry, and every mage had to carry out their ‘encounters’ in secret, Callum included. The few affairs he had had in the Circle had been brief and private – Callum wasn’t used to having his romantic life being discussed so openly.

“Alistair and I are _not_ lovers,” he’d insisted, casting a quick eye around the camp and keeping his voice low in fear of potential eavesdroppers.

“But you _do_ care for him,” Leliana had said, pressing the issue despite Callum’s discomfort. “It is plain to see.”

“Oh, Maker!” Callum had sighed, covering his face with his hands. “Surely I’m not so obvious?”

“You are quite taken with him, I can tell,” Leliana had said, with a knowing smile. “Whether your interest has been noticed by our fellow companions, I cannot tell.”

Callum had peeked suspiciously out from between his fingers at her. “And what would a Chantry sister know about such things?”

Leliana’s smile had widened at that. “Didn’t you know? Love is the Maker’s greatest gift to His children. It is a sign of his compassion, and every act of love is therefore as a prayer to Him and His Creation.”

Callum had found himself scoffing. “That’s not what the Chantry sisters in the Circle ever taught me. Or those in Kirkwall, for that matter.”

Leliana’s head had bowed slightly, her smile dimming. “Indeed. The Chantry has...differing ideas on what constitutes the Maker’s will. Is it true that they forbid relations among mages?”

“They _try_.”

“Well, that isn’t what Andraste taught. Just because magic cannot be allowed to rule over mankind doesn’t mean that mages should not be treated as people.”

“If only everyone thought that way,” Callum had muttered darkly, “then maybe we wouldn’t have any Circles at all.”

“Perhaps.” Leliana had fallen silent for a moment. “But enough about that. You’ve left your life in the Circle of Magi behind you, now. You’re free to be with whoever you choose.”

“I...I don’t know...” He turned and made for Alistair’s tent, her parting words reaching his ears like a distant song.

“You can’t run from your feelings forever.”

Leliana’s words haunted him over the following days and nights, turning around in his mind as Alistair slumbered next to him. The logical side of Callum’s brain was confounded.

 _“He’s right there!”_ Callum’s thoughts screamed. _“All I need to do is take that final step.”_

The same thoughts started to come to him whenever he even so much as _looked_ at Alistair. Every smile that was sent his way, every sarcastic comment made and bashful look given sent Callum’s heart racing.

But it wasn’t until they reached the Brecilian Forest, met with the Dalish clan there, and set off into the forest’s depths on a quest to slay the beast named ‘Witherfang’, that Callum’s mouth finally blurted out what his heart had been bellowing for so long.

“Al,” Callum called to his companion, as they were trekking through the forest. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Alistair turned, stopping as the rest of the party moved on without the two Wardens.

“Yeeeesss?” Alistair raised an eyebrow at him. “Is everything alright?”

Callum found himself fidgeting with the front of his robes. “W-Well...that is...you see...”

And suddenly, Alistair was standing right in front of him, smiling with genuine affection down at him.

“Not to sound rude, or anything,” Alistair began, “but can this wait? I believe we have an appointment with some ravenous werewolves. I hear they aren’t known for their patience.”

Callum gritted his teeth and shook his head. “This can’t wait, Al. We’re...we could die in the werewolves’ lair, you know. So...I wanted to tell you, in case we don’t make it out alive...”

Alistair’s brow furrowed in that way that Callum found inexplicably adorable.

“I...I...” Callum took a deep breath, before the words all came tumbling out. “I care for you, Alistair. A lot. And I know that might sound ridiculous because we haven’t known each other for a very long time but ever since Ostagar you’ve been there for me and nobody has ever been so kind to me in all my life so I really, really like you a great deal. And I’ve never had these kinds of feelings before and I don’t know how to cope exactly because you’re such a close friend already and I’m not sure I want that to change.”

Alistair must have blinked about half a dozen times before he could say anything. “Well. That...certainly was a lot of words.” His cheeks had become tinged with pink, his eyes wide with surprise. “You, er...you really mean all of that?”

Callum nodded. There was no going back now.

“Ah...right.” Alistair suddenly didn’t seem like he knew where to look. “Honestly, Callum, I...I think I might feel the same way.”

Callum’s heart skipped three beats in a row. “You...do?”

“W-Well, I think it might be because we’ve gone through so much together. I don’t know.” Alistair let a quiet chuckle loose from between his lips. “And here I thought that I was only fooling myself – only imagining that you could feel the same about me as I do about you. I’ve never quite this way about someone before. Certainly not another _man_. I...I’m not good at talking about this sort of thing,” he admitted, breaking off awkwardly.

“I understand.” A tense silence had developed between them. After a little while, Callum stepped forward, pushing past Alistair. “We should find the others again. We don’t want them to go on ahead without us.”

“Wait, Cal.”

Callum turned, only to be tugged into Alistair’s big, gentle arms.

“In case we _don’t_ make it out of this alive,” Alistair murmured, their faces only inches apart. “Can I...?”

Callum merely smiled, and closed the gap between their lips with a soft kiss. He brushed Alistair’s cheek with his thumb. It was far from passionate; Alistair’s mouth was pressed against his, unmoving, and the older Warden didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Despite all of that, Callum’s chest burned with happiness as they broke apart, beaming sheepishly at each other.

“Wow,” Alistair breathed. “I...whatever happens, Cal, I’m glad I did that.”

Afterwards, they encountered Witherfang in his other form: the Lady of the Forest. A series of events led to the demise of both the Lady and the Dalish clan’s Keeper, Zathrian, but both of the Grey Wardens and their allies made it out unscathed. They waited until returning to their camp to sit down and discuss what these new revelations would mean for them. They were young, and generally unfamiliar with the ways of romance. But they decided to learn from each other.

And that was how Callum and Alistair’s relationship had bloomed. Since then, they’d done little more than kiss and cuddle with various amounts of clothing removed. Alistair was more inexperienced when it came to sexual matters than Callum had expected, but Callum was fine with taking things slow. All of the young mage’s previous sexual experiences had been rather short affairs in the dark corners of the Circle – all tangled limbs and muffled cries of ecstasy – always consumed with the pervading fear that someone, _anyone_ , would come across their little piece of paradise and bring their world crashing down. Callum found that long hours spent kissing Alistair deeply in the warm privacy of their tents made for a pleasant change of pace.

But things were soon to change. On their way to Orzammar, while passing close to Lothering – which had by then been destroyed when the darkspawn horde had fallen upon it – they’d been intercepted by a group of assassins, after being led into a trap. It hadn’t been a very long or trying scrap, and soon all but one of them had been killed. The sole survivor, an elf with dark skin and a handsome face, lay unconscious on the ground. When Callum and the others had woke him up, he’d quickly introduced himself as Zevran, of the Antivan Crows. The elf was smooth, and fast-talking, and Callum quickly found himself being taken in by his charms. After some consideration (and no small amount of protesting from his comrades), Callum welcomed Zevran into the party.

Things had escalated rather quickly from there. Callum had underestimated just how charming his new companion could be. Soon, Callum was spending nearly as much time with Zevran as he did with Alistair, although the mage was happiest when he was with both. While some of his comrades expressed their concerns about the former assassin’s dubious loyalty, Callum reassured them with the fact that a guild as ruthless as the Antivan Crows would be hunting down their deserter with whatever resources they possessed. Zevran _needed_ them to protect him; striking out on his own, or stabbing them in the back, would only put his own life in danger. It helped, of course, that Zevran was a remarkably pretty man.

“You stare at me so often, my Warden friend,” Zevran had remarked one day as the party was passing by Redcliffe. “Surely you have seen an elf before?”

“None as handsome as you,” Callum had remarked, prompting the Antivan to chuckle.

“And I have never met a mage with a tongue so silver. Tell me, what other uses does that sweet tongue of yours have?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Callum had smirked at him, earning a wink in return.

Callum couldn’t deny he was attracted to Zevran, although he hadn’t yet come to trust the man. They were simply making use of each other for their own mutual benefit, although deep down the mage could think of a few more ‘uses’ the elf could be put to. But every time he’d fantasise about the elf and his lithe, limber body, Callum would be struck by a wave of guilt.

_“I told Alistair I cared about him, and yet here I am flirting with another man right in front of him.”_

Alistair, to his credit, had passed no comment on the bantering between Callum and Zevran. In fact, it had been Callum who’d brought the topic up one night as they were lying together in bed.

“I’m sorry,” the mage said, nuzzling his lover’s cheek with his nose. “I know it must be uncomfortable for you, seeing me talk to Zevran like that.”

Alistair remained silent for what seemed a long time, before he spoke. “To be honest, it hasn’t been bothering me much at all. I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t be dishonest with me, Cal.”

Callum sighed with relief. “Thanks, Al. That...that means a lot to me.” Callum shook his head gently. “I just...sometimes I see Zevran, or he talks to me in a certain tone of voice, and I can’t help but respond that way. It’s entirely irrational but I keep doing it.”

Alistair reached out and softly stroked Callum’s cheek. “It’s nothing you need to apologise for. I understand how you feel – Zevran’s...certainly an attractive man.” Alistair groaned quietly. “Please don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t,” Callum said, with a chuckle.

There was another pause. “You know,” Alistair began, “if it means that much to you...”

“Hmm?”

“I...I know I can’t... _do_ anything with you in that respect. I’m...not ready.”

“I know, Al, I know. And it’s okay.”

“But I’m just saying,” the former templar went on, “that if you _did_ really need to...you know, _relieve_ yourself of some tension, then...maybe you could get Zevran to help you?”

Callum sat up in bed and gaped in astonishment at Alistair’s prone form. “You...you’re not _serious_ , are you?”

“I-It was just a suggestion!” Alistair protested. “I’m clearly not up to the job, and you’ve got needs of your own. You’re a Grey Warden – you can’t afford to let things like this distract you.”

Callum had sighed and leaned down to give Alistair a tender kiss.

“First of all, I don’t want you to think that you aren’t ‘doing your job’ as my lover, alright? That’s not right. You’re doing perfectly fine, so there’s no need to put yourself down.” Callum had hesitated a moment. “But it is an interesting idea, I suppose. What if...? No, no.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I had an idea...but it might be going a bit too far.”

“Cal,” Alistair chided him gently, “you can tell me. I won’t be upset.”

“Well...what if the _two_ of us were to proposition Zevran together?”

Alistair blinked in surprise. “Erm...both of us?”

“Yeah. It’s only fair that we would share him. It wouldn’t be changing what we have, so much as adding something new, right?”

Alistair’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he considered the options. “I...I suppose that might be a good idea. I don’t know if I’d be willing to go as far with Zevran as you would, but...”

Callum leapt out of bed. “Then let’s go speak to him about it. We can talk about the terms then.”

Alistair gave a nod. “Okay...if you’re sure...”

The two of them made their way through the camp to the tent Zevran was occupying. The elf had been lying awake, and had gladly accepted the two men into his tent. After some amount of explanation, Zevran had been quite pleased to discover the arrangement Callum and Alistair had made.

“Still, I must say, I wouldn’t have thought Alistair to be so...willing about this arrangement. It was his idea?”

“Sort of,” Alistair admitted. His face had been burning red since he’d come into the tent, most likely because of the thin sheet that was only barely covering Zevran’s naked body as he lay on the tent floor. “At first, well...I’m not...I don’t...”

“Alistair and I haven’t taken our relationship to the physical level just yet,” Callum explained on behalf of his stammering lover. “So Al thought that I might be left wanting. I was the one who suggested that we both come to you to talk about this.”

“I see, I see.” Zevran’s keen eyes flickered between the two men. “Well, then, how should we proceed?

“I don’t think we should go too far for tonight,” Callum said. “Although, believe me, that’s an exciting thought.”

“Ah, well...there is one other...” Alistair’s voice had died in his throat before he could finish. “Well, never mind.”

“Al?” Callum raised an eyebrow at him.

“I was just...I mean...to be honest...” The Warden was clearly getting flustered.

“What is it?” Zevran asked.

“Well, the thought of the two of you...engaging one another at the physical level is...erm, an _inspiring_ thought.”

Suddenly the pieces all clicked into place. “You mean...you _like_ the idea of me and Zevran having sex?” Callum asked.

Alistair had swallowed deeply. “W-Well, that’s not quite how I would have put it, but...well, yes. At least, I _think_ so.”

Callum chuckled. “No wonder you came up with that idea of yours.”

Zevran’s grin stretched almost from ear-to-ear. “In that case, perhaps me and Callum should take things from here?” Zevran crawled across the tent, leaving the bedsheet behind him, and approached Callum with a hungry look.

Callum drank in the view, before casting a hesitant glance at Alistair. “Are you sure this is alright with you, Al?”

Alistair’s mouth was hanging open, taking in the scene before him. He tugged absent-mindedly on his breeches, which suddenly felt very tight and confining.

“Oh, Maker, yes,” he whispered.

Callum smiled a pleased smile. “In that case...”

Alistair watched as Zevran began pawing at Callum’s robes, pulling them off over his head. The two began kissing in earnest, Zevran pushing Callum down onto the tent floor. Alistair slowly reached into his breeches.

 

 

That hadn’t been so long ago, Callum reflected, his thoughts of that first night he’d shared with Zevran making his cheeks flush. Since then, they’d reached the foot of the Frostback Mountains, and Callum and Alistair had formed a sort of habit of spending their nights in Zevran’s tent. Alistair had been hesitant at first, but gradually he’d become less inclined to sit by the sidelines as Callum and Zevran went at it. The three of them formed an unlikely trio, but all were surprised by how quickly they’d bonded. As Callum lay in Alistair’s arms by the campfire, the Frostbacks looming over their heads, he heard movement from behind. He craned his neck as Zevran emerged from his own tent, eyes darting around until they met Callum’s.

“Good evening,” the Antivan said with a cheeky smile. “You’re out late, again.” He crossed over to join the two men, sitting down beside Alistair and planting a deep kiss on the ex-templar’s mouth, earning a surprised but pleased grunt in return. After they broke apart, Zevran gave Callum an equally-tender kiss.

“You know how much Alistair worries when you stay up late,” Zevran said, nuzzling the mage’s forehead with his own.

“He’s not wrong,” Alistair grumbled.

“Come to bed,” Zevran told them. “My tent is warm, and outside, it is freezing.”

“Again,” Alistair muttered, “he’s not wrong.”

Callum looked from one set of pleading eyes to the other, before letting out an amused sigh. “Alright, then.” He made to get up, but Alistair grabbed hold of him and picked him up in his arms.

“Come on,” the other Warden said. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I do so _love_ it when Alistair shows off his muscle,” Zevran added appreciatively, ducking inside the tent and holding the flap open for the Wardens.

The Blight could wait, Callum reflected, as he was carried into the warm tent. For now, there were two incredibly attractive men caring for him, and he didn’t want to leave them unsatisfied.


End file.
